What happens in Vegas
by Lydiarrr
Summary: Twenty-six cans of cider, four bottles of Vodka, two companions and Ceasers Palace, Vegas. What could possibly go wrong? Ten/Rose. General fun. Please R & R :D x
1. Vegas? Shit

From previous experience he knew that the worse the hangover, the better the night.

So he figured that last night must have been epic.

Empty beer cans and vodka bottles clattered noisily across the floor as he swung his arm out from under what he hoped was a blanket. Wherever he was it was cold, uncomfortable and damp against his skin, which- with a slight pang of worry- he now realised was completely exposed. Groggy feelings began to lumber back into his senses and he was able to get a misty idea of where he was and what he was doing there.

Although whether or not that was a good thing he couldn't be entirely sure.

He squinted painfully around the room; groaning internally as hazy memories began to return to him, worsening his already aching head. A vague picture of the night's events began to piece together as he strained his mind, trying not to focus too long on the worrying gaps in his knowledge, which, frankly, seemed to be the most important bits.

For instance: he knew he was in a bathtub in suite 105 of Ceasers Palace, Vegas although he couldn't remember why. He realised that outside there was likely to be a road sign, four pairs of high-heeled cowboy boots, and his unconscious travelling companion however he couldn't for the life of him say where the road sign went to, who the boots belonged to or where Rose was passed out.

He stood up, rubbing his eyes with the rough balls of his fingertips and watching the spots of light dance before him.

'Shitting hell' the general tangle of clothes and underwear swayed his balance as he attempted to cover himself up, hoping desperately that Rose would be a stranger to his naked form and choosing not to notice the empty condom box which had fallen from his pocket. He steadied himself against the wall, resting a hand gently on the handle of the door.

'What happens in Vegas…' He mumbled to himself as he stepped out into the carnage and mayhem that was the rest of the suite.


	2. Time Travellers guide to Klom

'Rose, why does this water taste as though somebodies poured three double-vodkas into it?'

No answer.

'Roooosssseeeeeee' He pouted, downing the drink with a shudder and reaching over to get her attention.

'OI'

Ok, so he may have poked her a little too hard, but the resulting punch was uncalled for. He pouted again, spinning gently on the seat of the crushed velevet barstool on which he was perched. Rose smiled and leant over the bar.

'Vodka martini and a-?

'Mineral water' The doctor smiled

'Margherita, please'

He decided to give up. This was the seventh time he'd asked for a mineral water and the seventh time she'd blatantly ignored him in exchenge for copious amounts of alcohol.

As he recalled it was her idea to go to las vegas. She'd begged him for a 'little bit of fun' to celebrate her 21st birthday and so he had agreed, under the one condition that neither of them were to get- in his words exactly- 'so drunk they couldnt feel feelings anymore'

A condition she was determined to ignore.

'Drink up' She grinned at him, stirring her martini gently with the skewered olive before popping it in her mouth.

He looked her up and down. She didnt look 21. He blamed it on the dress she was wearing. The one which doesent leave much to the imagination. The one he'd bought her from Skinta. The one which changes shape depending on the occasion.

God he was beginning to sound like her father.

Casually he took a sip of his margehrita, managing to spill most of it down his chin.

Smooth.

Slipping the drink on the side, he decided to stand up. Why he had stood up, he couldnt quite remember, but he knew there was a good reason for it.

'Fancy moving on to the next one?' She smiled at him, finishing off the last of her drink and attempting to stand. It was more the shoes than the alcohol, she supposed, holding onto the bar for support.

'Dont you fancy a kebab?'

She mused this over for a while. After all, she was a bit peckish.

'Sure' Smiles.

'Great'

He was never too sure what happened after that. He knew that they had, at some point, decided to take the party to the tardis and that Rose had found the bottle of Jack hidden inside his volume of 'A travellers guide to Klom; the time-traveller edition'. And then, then, he had suggested something.

What had he suggested?

There was a block, so it must have been something fairly bad.

He strained his memory.

There was definatley an argument at some point, something about a Daniel, or was it David. David, that was it. Rose was convinced they were exact doubles, and he was not. To prove his point they went to have a look and for some unfathomable reason this David bloke kept calling his Rose 'Billie'.

To be fair, he thought generally, at least that explained the skinny, brown haired man in the kilt lying face down outside the bathroom door.

He sniffed casually, rubbed his eyes and continued his investigation around the apartment.


	3. A 'good time'

He found Rose in what was left of the kitchen, clutching a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Smiling, he started towards her, attempting to avoid the tangle of party streamers, broken pots, and alcohol bottles where were spilled across the floor.

'Morning'

'Stop _shouting_' she groaned, clutching her head and taking a swig of tea.

'I'm not' He mumbled, sympathetically.

'Really? Shit'

Her hair was scraped back into something which vaguely resembled a ponytail and eyeliner had run a good inch down her face. She looked tired.

'What _happened_ last night?' The doctor asked in awe, gazing around at the crashed room.

'You don't remember much, do you?'

'I remember betting you that I could eat a whole jar of marmalade without throwing up' He groaned 'and then...then... Oh god, I...did I put condoms on the bananas?'

She giggled at the memory and glanced over at the, slightly shiny, fruit bowl. 'You kept saying that you were a doctor and you knew that fruit needed protecting too'.

He groaned again and sank down into the armchair by the kitchen sink, kicking a traffic cone adorned with policewoman's suspenders from the seat.

'Who's that guy outside the bathroom?'

'The slightly ginger one wearing a kilt?'

'Yeah, him'

The doctor ran his fingers through his tangled hair and scratched the back of his ear.

'You don't remember?' He asked, hoping she would clarify the situation some more.

'I remember telling you he was your exact double and you wouldn't believe me.' She sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut in thought. 'And then you offered to show him a 'good time' and he thought you were gay'

'What the he-'

'You were wearing a pink shirt with a rainbow on it and a bright blue, stick on builder's moustache at the time' she said pointedly in answer to his unasked question.

'Oh'

'Yes'

'Right'

She drained the dregs from the bottom of her teacup and shuddered, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her eyes. Something glinted from her hand as she put it down to rest on the table.

'Where did you get that from?'

'What from?'

'That ring'

What ring?'

He grabbed her hand and pulled it from her finger.

'This ring!'

'Oh that ring'

'Yes that ring'

'I don't know, I had it on when I woke up this morning, why is it important?'

He put his head in his hands and sighed, trying desperately to think. There were vague memories of its importance, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what they were or how they got there.

Never. Drinking. Again.

'Didn't that guy give it you?'

'Which one?'

'The ginger one'

'Um, maybe?'

Happy with this, slightly stale lead, he stood from the armchair and promptly and painfully fell onto the floor. Cradling his aching head in his hands he clambered to his shaking feet and proceeded to do what can only be described as the sane thing to do in such a situation.

He put the kettle on.


End file.
